Southern Sun
by Old Sam's Artisanal Fic
Summary: Anna Arendal, intrepid research biologist thought she was prepared for a summer season at Troll Station, Norway's antarctic station. But comms blackouts, storms, unfamiliar customs and her grumpy assistant Kristoff are making life way too complicated. She just wants to watch penguins, darn it! Kristanna Antarctic Base AU.
1. Chapter 1: Penguin Girl

**CHAPTER 1: Penguin Girl  
**

* * *

. . .

 _Antarctic base AU. Written for the Kristanna Christmas in July 2018 Secret Santa event on Tumblr, my gift for epbaker_

 _Anna in an animal onesie is an adorable image and I will not be convinced otherwise._

 _Apologies in advance to anyone with actual knowledge of Antarctic operations._

. . .

* * *

. . .

Lousy Antarctica.

Anna Arendal threw her covers off and dragged herself to her feet, strangling a howl of frustration as she looked at the clock, her only reliable measure of time on this stupid continent. She opened the shutters, ignoring the recommended closure hours sensibly displayed across them in Norwegian, and let the bright daylight into her room. Her brain kind of knew the light was there anyway, even if she couldn't see it. It _felt_ like daytime, twenty-four seven. And she had got used to it. Mostly. Normally. You couldn't be an intrepid polar researcher if you couldn't manage the weird hours- everyone knew that. But…

Lousy Kristoff.

Lousy storm.

Lousy dated, unreliable equipment, that falls apart if a teensy little gale force wind hits it.

Lousy… actually, this wasn't Elsa's fault at all, not this time.

Lousy Anna. Lousy Anna's lousy big mouth.

Lousy comms blackout, at the worst possible time.

She fell back on top of the mangled bed covers, the ambient chill than pervaded every inch of Troll Station even in summer creeping under her onesie and the pyjamas underneath that, at throat and wrist and ankle, setting her skin tingling. The chill cut through the fog of her insomniac funk, just a little.

It was all her fault. And Kristoff's. And the storm, obviously. And the midnight sun. But mainly hers.

She shouldn't have yelled at him. Kristoff was a big, oblivious… _Kristoff,_ and she was expecting him to be a mind-reader. Of course he didn't get why she'd been pulling out her hair about a few days without Internet. She'd never explained about her family, after all. Not that he'd been very polite about it.

But then neither had Anna. Maybe it was guilt, the reason she was replaying their argument in her head over and over. Or maybe… maybe it was a sign of how few people she actually had, out here, on the underside of the world. How few friends to lose.

Lousy language barrier…

. . .

* * *

. . .

Antarctica is a post-state scientific utopia. In theory.

On December 1st, 1959, the twelve nations with active science bases on the frozen continent signed the Antarctic treaty, dedicating one of the great land masses of Earth to peace and scientific discovery. As of 2006, forty countries are signed up to the treaty and operate research bases and stations. More than forty are permanent, 12 months-per-year settlements, antennae and living pods linked together like moon bases, dozens more are small, summer outposts.

The biggest, McMurdo Station, is American. It is more like a town than an outpost, its population never dropping below two hundred even in the depths of the polar winter, and swelling to over a thousand in the summer research season. That was where Anna had spent her first season in the continent. So many fellow research biologists. So many penguins! She could literally walk to one of the Adélie colonies, except that she had promised never to do that again. Those darn pencil pushers…

This year was different. Particular research had to be collected from other parts of the continent, very specific, penguin-ey data which couldn't be gleaned from what other nations had shared. _I can do that one_ , Anna had said, pointing to where Troll Station had been circled on the map. _My parents spoke Norwegian. I'll fit right in…_

"It'll be great!" Anna had insisted to Elsa. "No more of the big-base politics and bureaucracy and meetings… Ugh, so many meetings! All the nonsense there was around that congressional visit. None of which was my fault, by the way. Just real researchers, braving the frozen wilds for science!"

Elsa had looked uncertain; she hadn't said anything about how Anna was travelling to the other end of the planet again, and that it was different this time, they were different. But they'd promised to stay in contact- the base had a dish for Internet- and Anna had sworn she wouldn't let them drift apart a second time.

. . .

The journey back to the frozen continent had gone smoothly, considering how complicated it all was. Connecting flights down the length of the Americas, an overnight stay at an airfield in Argentina, and then a chartered plane had brought her back to McMurdo. She'd had enough time to say 'See ya later' to a couple of old friends before the equipment she'd need was collected and loaded onto yet another plane, which had carried her to the South Pole.

A pilot had greeted her on arrival, a sharp-featured older woman who had informed her in laboured English that she was to to fly her the rest of the way, and had seemed surprised but delighted when Anna answered her in Norwegian, even complementing her accent. She hadn't known she had an accent. Was that… actually a complement, though?

With an hour or two free once she'd made sure her luggage was safely transferred to the smaller cargo plane, and although she had already felt tired from the long hours in the air, Anna had still got out and walked around the Amundsen–Scott South Pole Station. Partly to stretch her legs, and partly because _she was at the South Pole_.

The South Pole… Wasn't that just crazy? Mother Earth's frosty little butt.

It hadn't even been all _that_ cold, being the start of the Antarctic summer. Okay, pretty cold, maybe minus twenty, but she'd come straight from the first frosts of a New York winter and was wrapped up in the finest thermal gear government funding could buy, so she'd felt the sting on the exposed parts of her cheeks and that was about all.

There was… literally a pole there.

Right in front of the base. It was a goofy little thing- red and white striped with a shiny ball on top, sticking up absurdly from the packed white permafrost. To think so many men died to reach the site of some novelty lawn ornament…

She had taken a selfie with it, to send to Elsa as soon as she had Internet.

By the time the final leg had brought her to the little airfield alongside Troll Station, she had been awake for more than twenty hours, which had made it, according to the pilot, only mid morning by Central European Time. A massive man whose ginger muttonchops were sprinkled with white had been standing, waiting for her, by a red minibus fitted with massive winter tyres. Every vehicle in Antarctica looked like a scaled-up kids' toy. As it turned out that was the station director, Dr Kjøpmann, who insisted on Anna calling him Oaken with the same polite informality which proved to be the norm for… _most_ of the station staff.

On the way from the airfield Oaken had launched into what could well have been the introductory spiel he gave every newcomer. Troll Station was established first by the Norwegians as a summer outpost, and only expanded into a permanent, year-round station in 2003. This was good news in a lot of ways- there were all the modern conveniences. A TV room. Even basic Wi-Fi- although he admitted it wasn't very reliable. A sauna- Anna had tried not to giggle at that. But _of course_ there was a sauna…

And the base now had a wind turbine to generate part of its power. He sounded particularly proud of that. Then Anna remembered being told that a good portion of the Norwegian scientists at the base were environmental researchers. Sustainability was probably close to their hearts.

The base was not much to look at in itself- Antarctic stations never are. A handful of blocky prefabricated buildings, mostly bright red to stand out at a distance to anyone lost nearby, connected by tracks and walkways. What really stood out was that it was all built not on snow, but on bare rock. A huge rock formation rose out of the ice sheet, running up towards a collection of oddly shaped mountains in the near distance, and the Norwegians had planted their flag right on top of it. Oaken explained all this, adding that the mountains were the 'trolls' after which the station had been named.

By the time they had made it to the station, Anna had been half-awake, and they had installed her equipment in one of the lab buildings and installed Anna herself in an empty dormitory room as quickly as possible so she could sleep off some of her extreme jet lag, having gone from EST to New Zealand time then back to European time over the course of one trip.

Left alone to unpack and rest, she'd zipped open her case, changed into her pyjamas, pulled her favourite penguin onesie on over the top because she'd still felt the chill, then remembered just in time to text Elsa.

…

 _Did you arrive yet? x_

 _Anna, please text me when you're safely there. You know I get jittery when you travel x_

 _ **Arrived safely! ;)**_

 _Thank God. How is your Norwegian holding up?_

 _Xxx_

 _ **Okey dokey so far.**_

 _I'm so out of practice._

 _ **Elsa I need my sleep. So do you. It's 4am in NY.**_

 _ **Wait!**_

 _?_

 _ **Forgot this. Lo, ye literal South Pole XD**_

 _This… is ridiculous x_

 _ **¯\\_(**_ _ **ツ**_ _ **)_/¯ Don't let the bed bugs bite x**_

 _Have an adventure, Anna. Skype me. Love you x_

 _ **Luv u xxx**_

…

Sisterly duty discharged, Anna had flipped the light switch and collapsed straight onto the bed, instantly asleep…

She'd been woken up again after only a couple of hours, but that was life, wasn't it?

. . .

Broken sleep was kind of part of working through the midnight sun, Anna considered, still staring at the ceiling of her room. Maybe they were all feeling a little edgy, shorter tempered…

After another twenty minutes replaying her good and bad choices with increasing frustration, Anna thought: To heck with it. Brooding was Elsa's thing- she was a problem solver.

Well, how to solve her problems, then?

Problem 1: Elsa. Couldn't do anything about her until the storm damage to the comms dish was fixed.

Problem 2: Kristoff.

 _Kristoff._ Anna had the beginnings of a plan to repair that particular burned bridge. Hopping up, she pulled her boots, gloves and coat on over her night clothes. If she remembered the rota right, Olaf was on nights at the moment…

. . .

* * *

. . .

Olaf Snømann was in his element. Three quarters of the staff were asleep and the canteen block was empty, so he could use the kitchen without interruption. Strictly speaking, Troll Station having no official chef, meals were meant to be cooked by the researchers based on a rota, but Olaf often volunteered his down time to bake, mix, prepare. Partly because putting together a lovely stew relaxed him when he wasn't grappling with satellite data, and partly because if he didn't cook, someone else had to- and most of his colleagues struggled to empty a tin of herring onto a slice of bread. It certainly made him popular. Everyone wanted to be friends with the cook.

Of course, with the satellite down he had all the time in the world anyway.

The door swung open which a swish of frozen air which tickled Olaf's scalp through his thin, silver hair, and a lone figure waddled in, wrapped in a thick high vis coat. It wasn't time for the night shift to eat, but there was no mistaking his visitor anyway. Olaf stopped stirring the stew pot and hurried to shut the door as fast as his stumpy legs would allow as American Anna undid her jacket, yawning. Underneath she was dressed in the same bizarre one-piece hooded costume that she'd worn the first time they'd met, her wind-burnt face framed by ginger pigtails sticking out under a goofy plush penguin face…

. . .

She had only been at the base a couple of hours at that point, months ago, but according to her she had forgotten to turn off her phone alarm. Now, an early alarm in Latin America is past midday in Europe and, finding herself awake at lunch, she'd decided to brazen out her jet lag and try the canteen.

Everyone had introduced themselves, of course. And it had turned out the base rumour mill was, for once, true and she actually spoke Norwegian, although her accent was so strong Olaf couldn't believe she had ever left the United States before. Although Olaf's own spoken English was atrocious, so it was a relief to know they wouldn't have to rely on it.

In any case, she had sat down, bleary-eyed, clad in her novelty onesie, said thank you very politely for the smørbrød Olaf had placed before her, before devouring a good half of it with her hands- like a toddler. Eventually she'd gone pink in the cheeks, registering that people were staring, and picked up her knife and fork to finish. Someone had jokingly called her 'Pingu' and she'd looked at them blankly. Olaf had shooed them away and sat down to eat with her, feeling a little protective of this young, half-penguin researcher, with her feral American table manners, half asleep and wholly out of her element.

And she was fun, it turned out. A breath of fresh, crazy air. He'd not had a snowball fight in years before Anna had arrived…

. . .

Anna coughed, bringing Olaf's mind back to the present before he could .

"Hi Olaf. I'm sorry about the dish."

He looked back at the pot. "What? Oh, the _satellite_ dish." He shrugged, smiling serenely. "These things happen. He glanced out one of the little porthole-like windows, sighed, and returned to stirring the pot. "This land is beautiful, powerful, dangerous… that is part of the wonder of it. A little damage, a little delay- it's nothing we can't fix."

Anna inhaled sharply, wringing her hands. "Yeah… fixing things. About that. Could I ask you a really, really big favour?"

. . .

* * *

. . .

Kristoff shovelled snow.

The base had a snow plough, obviously, but the storm had done more than spread a few feet of powder over the roads. In the driving wind, tonnes had built up in dense drifts against the buildings, burying cables and equipment that had to be dug out by hand. And so, since Lars had called dibs on the plough and he wouldn't be driving Anna anywhere until comms were restored, Kristoff had picked up a shovel and offered a hand.

That was if Anna ever actually _wanted_ to share a cab with him again. The thought that she might insist Oaken assign her one of the other techs bothered him in a way part of him found surprising. He wasn't sure exactly when he'd stopped being annoyed by the ginger menace and started…

He carried on shovelling. He'd been working at it steadily for a while now; Sápmi winters had trained him well and he kept up a clean, rhythmic technique, the exertion warming him against the burning cold of the Antarctic air, efficiently clearing the loose-packed snow into piles that could be swept off by vehicle. Initially the exercise had kept his head clear, stopped him from dwelling on the fight, but now specific impressions kept forcing their way back into his head.

Anna had been so unreasonably angry, Kristoff had thought, about losing _Skype_ when the blackout left the base cut off from other stations if there were an actual emergency, and when the whole TrollSat team's actual jobs rested on the comms mast being fixed, and when actual international treaties existed around Norway sharing that satellite data. And he'd told her so, and he'd not really listened to her…

But now, now he remembered her hands, fidgeting, tying her braids in knots as she'd complained; the tension in her wide blue-green eyes, almost tearful, and that wasn't just Anna being her usual impatient, volatile self. Something had been very wrong, and Kristoff hadn't listened.

Now he was worried, and wondering if it was too late to fix… whatever they had. It wasn't like he could fix comms.

Kristoff remembered when he had first set eyes on her…

. . .

He'd been hearing the others gossip about Anna for a couple of days, the strange American penguin girl, but they'd kept missing each other, which suited him fine. 'Kind of hot', apparently, 'in a Pippi Långstrump sort of way'- he hadn't wanted to dwell on that particular disturbing mental image. All Kristoff had known was that some American government agency had cut a deal with some Norwegian government agency, which meant he now had to spend four days a week ferrying some stranger far overland to look at birds.

He had been checking over the snowcat when Anna and Oaken had come strolling up together. The _Red Sven_ was a tracked polar specialist about the size of a tow truck, and the only vehicle they had with the necessary speed and range for Ms Arendal's outings. The director had simply handed Kristoff his revised work schedule and marched back to his office with a wave, leaving his more taciturn countryman to try and make conversation with the newcomer.

It had turned out that making conversation with Anna Arendal was mostly nodding and saying 'Huh'. Her Norwegian was better than he'd heard, although her accent was strong, going high and low in all the wrong places with heavy American 'R's. Still, words, mostly the correct ones, poured bubbling up out of this girl- sweet and effervescent and unrelentingly upbeat, like a human can of Sprite. Questions, follow-up questions, answers to questions _he_ hadn't asked… maybe it was a nervous trait?. She had just arrived after all.

Their first trip had dispelled the theory that Anna only talked too much when she was nervous, as she'd quickly settled into a calm, collected routine of always thinking in her mouth.

Anna was in Troll Station because it was 'close' to penguin colonies she needed to observe and collect data from. However, Antarctica was a continent, and 'close' meant travelling hundreds of miles by snowcat as opposed to thousands by plane. Troll Station being the 'closest' to the colonies she needed to study meant that it was 'only' a three hour drive each way in fine weather, plus an hour or two of driving between the penguin nesting spots themselves. Plus waiting around for Anna to make observations and collect samples.

And through it all, Anna would talk…

 _..._

 _Are we there yet?_

 _No._

 _You don't say much, huh?_

 _No._

…

…

…

 _If the rock rises through the ice around the station, is the ice thinner? Like, do we have to worry less about falling in cracks?_

 _Actually, you'd think so, but no. The ice gets thick pretty quick as you move away from the Jutulsessen nunatak._

…

…

…

 _I've never observed an Emperor colony before. Most of the data I collected last year is from_ _Adélies, but we need to track the pollution effects on the other Antarctic species and form hypotheses about dietary factors, so… are you listening?_

 _Um, sure._

…

…

…

 _Are you ever around in winter?_

 _No, it's only really the satellite station team that are needed during the long night._

 _Twenty-four hours of night. That must suck._

 _Yes._

…

…

…

 _Are the nights very long where you come from?_

 _Oh yes._

 _So, far in the North?_

 _Sápmi._

 _Sorry?_

 _Sápmi. You know, ugh, 'Lapland'?_

 _Like Santa Claus?_

… _No, not like Santa Claus._

…

…

…

 _What's a Pingu?_

…

…

…

It had been exhausting at first, chauffeuring their foreign guest from breeding site to breeding site. That first week, the idea of being grounded at Troll Station for a few days would have sounded like a holiday. So why, whatever he did, however much he tinkered with the vehicles in the garage, or cleared snow until his back and shoulders burned and his clothes and beard were dusted white… Why did the day feel so empty now?

He missed the easy smile, the fizzy energy that escaped in bursts of joy, or curiosity, or irritation. He somehow missed the constant barrage of words.

He missed Anna. At some point in all those long, long drives over the ice, she'd grown on him.

Like a terrorist and her hostage…

. . .

* * *

. . .


	2. Chapter 2: Bribery

**CHAPTER 2: Bribery**

* * *

. . . **  
**

The sun didn't set during December in Antarctica. But this far from the Pole it did skim lower in the sky for a few hours, swelling into a warmer golden light that smeared itself along the horizon like the glow of a distant fire. Kristoff liked to sit out and watch it sometimes, on his breaks or when there was no work for him. That was how Anna found him, sat on a box by the wall of the garage block and sipping steaming black coffee from a Thermos flask. Alone. Good.

He was looking away from her, scarf loose around his thick blond beard, woolly hat pulled down over his ears, rolling his broad shoulders gently as if working out the aches and pains of the day. Anna saw the shovel propped up against the wall next to him. Clearly Kristoff had been making himself a lot more useful than she had been, sulking in bed, and for a moment she hesitated to bother him.

No, shyness wasn't going to solve anything. If Kristoff didn't want to talk to Anna he could tell her. And the package in her hands wasn't getting any warmer.

"Anna?" She jumped.

"Oh, Kristoff…" Anna swallowed nervously. She'd been spotted, no point in trying to back out now. She stepped up to her colleague, her rehearsed apology completely evaporating from her mind. "So, I…"

"I should apologise."

"What? No! I should apologise." Anna blinked in surprise. "I yelled at you."

"I didn't listen to you."

"No one listens to me!" Anna paused. "I talk too much I know it's a thing." She held the bag in her hands out to him. "Peace offering. I didn't have time to wrap it."

"For me?" Kristoff stared at the bag for a couple of heartbeats, then took it and sat back down on the box, shuffling over so Anna could join him. He lifted the box out of the bag, a large plastic tub she and Olaf had found in the kitchen, and…

As Kristoff cracked open the lid of the tub, the smell of sweet fried dough was detectable even in the icy midsummer air. He smiled. "Doughnuts. You got Olaf to make them again."

"Yep."

"Everyone has been badgering him to make more since… well, the last time. He said we had to wait for a special occasion."

"I twisted his arm."

"They're so good."

"Yep." Anna was giggling now. "And they're all yours. Tell no one, or the meteorological team will descend on you like vultures."

Kristoff laughed, and Anna was finally starting to relax, relieved. "It's a strange world."

Kristoff reached for a rucksack sitting on the snowy rock, and fiddled with fastenings. Thermal gloves made little things awkward. Eventually, mumbling an apology, he drew out a small package tied up in a cotton rag. "I didn't have time to wrap, either."

Anna let him place the little parcel in her hands. "And it's not even Christmas yet." As she pulled the cloth away she saw the gleam of coloured foil. Was it really…

"Chocolate!" Anna jumped up and down, clutching _The Precious_ to her chest, then sat down self-consciously. "Wow, thanks. My stash lasted, like, a week. Not even that."

She turned back to Kristoff. "I can't believe we both decided to bribe each other with sugar."

"It's the drug of choice around here."

"Like cigarettes in prison."

"We should talk."

"Yeah…"

"I promise to listen this time."

. . .

It was far too cold to stay outside, so Kristoff led her into the garage. Soon they were sat together in the cab of Kristoff's snowcat, as they had on so many achingly cold, bright 'mornings' since Anna had arrived here.

Anna's chocolate was frozen solid- goodness knows where Kristoff had been hiding it, maybe buried somewhere safe from hungry researchers- so they shared Kristoff's doughnuts as Anna explained a little of her family situation.

How Elsa had increasingly isolated herself from everyone including, most hurtfully, her sister. How they hadn't realised how ill she was, not for years- Pappa hadn't really encouraged them to talk about it.

Eventually, in their twenties, after they had both made some questionable choices- Kristoff didn't need to hear about Anna's jerkass of an ex just yet- things had reached a breaking point.

After a particularly severe crisis had landed Elsa in the ER, she was finally receiving the medical attention she should have been getting from the beginning. Encouraged by her therapists, she had reached out to Anna.

They were making progress, slowly learning to be sisters again. But things were still fragile between them. Anna could be thoughtless and short-tempered, Elsa was painfully sensitive and sometimes kind of paranoid… it was a volatile combination.

In their last Skype call before the storm had wrecked the mast Elsa had been smiling, proud of herself. She had gone to a Christmas party. Elsa. Elsa Arendal had gone to a party. And enjoyed herself. With people. And dancing.

Anna had asked her where the party had been. Elsa had prevaricated, but Anna had pressed the issue, knowing her sister didn't drink and the blush on her cheeks was not alcohol.

. . . **  
**

" _It… was an office party."_

" _ **Oh really… Whose?"**_

" _Oh, whose office? A, um, friend."_

" _ **A friend took you on a date, huh?"**_

" _Well it doesn't have to be a date, necessarily."_

" _ **Uh-huh…"**_

" _Okay, it was. Maybe."_

" _ **Ooh… Maybe I should check this guy out, ask him his intentions towards my sister. Or do I know him already? You don't meet that many people, no offence."**_

" _No, no."_

" _ **You hesitated."**_

" _No, honestly, she's new in town… oh God."_

. . . **  
**

Kristoff looked wary. "And was that…"

Anna nearly spat out her doughnut. "Oh for God's sake Kristoff, I'm not a homophobe! I'm a scientist! It would be like… hating someone for their shoe size!"

Kristoff's nose scrunched up when he was thinking. It was kind of adorable- _Wait, what?_

"So, if you're not-"

"There's no if! Geez, one nightmare clown gets elected and everyone thinks the worst of us."

"So what did you say?"

Anna face-palmed, groaning. "Nothing."

There was a pregnant pause.

"Nothing? You?"

"I panicked! Said some nonsense about having my lab tests to get back to…"

Anna found herself fidgeting with her hair again. "We're sisters, and I love her, but sometimes it seems like I hardly know anything about her. Elsa pulled away from me so hard all through our teens- I didn't know then about her mental health, I just thought there was something wrong with me, maybe. And it just got worse after Mamma and Pappa passed. We've only really reconnected in the last year after she started getting therapy and meds, and so much is still uncharted territory between us.

There should have been sleepovers and girls' nights in and blanket forts where we talked about our crushes and shared our darkest secrets. But there was none of that. Just a locked bedroom door I passed on my way to the stairs. And being reminded of that made me feel like the lousiest sister in the world all over again."

She pulled her legs up to her body, hugging her knees. "And you know, I am."

Anna put her hand up to stay Kristoff's well-meaning protests.

"No, really. I made it about me. I got all weird and made excuses so _I'd_ have time to feel comfortable. I was so scared of saying the wrong thing I said nothing! The one time I didn't talk when I actually should have…

I should have told her that it was okay. I shouldn't have signed off before I was sure she believed that. Elsa never finds it easy to tell me anything. Her issues make her so scared all the time, make her expect the worst. But she's been trying so hard. She's been getting better…"

Anna buried her face in her hands. "But _that_ was when we lost Internet! And phones! Everything! Like, ten minutes later, back at the lab I had started to worry and wanted to send her a quick message, something supportive, even just a stupid little " _Luv u Elsa xxx"_ …

…But no signal. Blackout! So now my only sister's back stateside thinking I freaked out and ghosted her, probably deciding to cut me out of her life for good this time. Or worse, having another breakdown… because of me…"

Kristoff wasn't the most demonstrative guy Anna had ever met, so she was surprised when he shifted the remaining doughnuts to one side and wrapped her in a tight hug.

It was nice, though. It was really nice, even with the gearshift pressing into her hip. She felt adrift in nightmarish uncertainty, no clue what Elsa was doing, no way to fix it, and the feeling of his arms encircling her, thick and strong as tree trunks, was kind of grounding. He was so calm and still most of the time, it was easy to forget how big he was. Two Annas big. Like a bear. A brawny Norwegian bear man. She couldn't really feel the warmth of him through the layers of insulating clothing they both wore, but… why was she thinking about that?

"Anna, listen to me. The dish will be fixed before you know it. You will call your sister, or Skype or whatever you want. You will tell her exactly what you told me, and she will understand and she will love you. We will carry on collecting data, data and poop alike, I will make you watch _Pingu_ in the TV room so you understand the joke, and everything- that means _everything_ \- will be alright. Okay?"

Anna nodded. Something about the sheer, solid presence of Kristoff made it easier to believe his words, to expect good things, as she mumbled his words back to him. "Everything will be alright."

"That's right."

. . . **  
**

* * *

. . .

They met again the next evening, in the same spot- where Kristoff waited in the freezing wind with a sheepish grin and enough coffee for them both. Anna's chocolate had had time to thaw out and was no longer like trying to bite into a slab of glass, so they took their eating caffeine and drinking caffeine into the garage workshop. Kristoff must have known it would be empty.

"I should explain my behaviour," Kristoff announced out of nowhere.

Anna put her plastic mug down on the crate that Kristoff had dragged over between their stools to make them a table, with that effortless strength of his. "No offense, but you need to narrow that down."

"I can often be too…" Kristoff trailed off, his brow furrowing under his woolly hat.

"Laconic?"

He grunted. "Actually, yes. My family are a bit overpowering. It would make sense if you could meet them."

Anna leaned in, curious. "Your family?"

She'd never thought about him as a family person. But then she'd never asked. Had she really been so self-centred?

"Well, adoptive family. My brother, that's my… hold on."

Kristoff reached into his coat to retrieve one of the indestructible phones the Norwegian teams were issued with and flicked through a couple of screens, before turning it over to her. It showed a photo of two young men dressed in colourful woollen clothes, smiling and hugging each other while one held up the camera. It took a moment to realise which one was Kristoff- he looked different without the thick beard he'd been wearing since she had arrived.

"My only blood relation. Sven and I lost our folks when we were very little. Then we were adopted by new parents. There were ten of us, altogether, growing up right at the furthest frozen edge of the north of Europe."

"Ten?" Anna gawked. One sibling had been complicated growing up- seven seemed like, well a zoo.

Kristoff chuckled at the face she was making. "Pappa said it kept the house warm. It was crowded. I never had much time to myself as a boy, except when I was out on the ice. At home, there was always someone talking to me, dragging me off to join in with something. Sometimes there would be songs, all through our little house, just because someone felt like singing and then Mamma joined in, then everyone else joined in…"

"They sound wonderful," Anna blurted out, before she could stop herself. Compared to the years of her parents always being busy with the company, and Elsa ghosting her- not that they'd known why at the time…

Kristoff snorted. "They are. But also loud, and excitable, and overbearing, and kinda never shut up. I miss them, but at the same time I need to get away for some of the year."

At that, Anna felt something implode slightly inside of her, a feeling she couldn't exactly account for, but she didn't want to ruin their second actual proper conversation, so she tried to grin and make a joke of it.

"So, you come all the way to the bottom of the world for some peace and quiet, and instead you're driving me two hundred clicks to collect penguin poop, while I talk, and talk, and talk your ear off the whole way? Tough break. Wow."

Kristoff looked up at her and shook his head. "The whole drive back, too. But that's not quite what I meant. I should relate to people. It is part of life, I want to. But I guess my family has left me too… passive. You come to me, and you sit and talk and I let you, like you're one of my kid sisters. But you are not. I am not home, letting the noise wash over me, where my family know what I feel even if I do not show it. I am here, and you are my… friend, and I should talk to you, let you know that your company is valued."

Anna wasn't expecting the sudden turn, and the sad look in Kristoff's eyes and the hesitant way he said 'friend', like it was a question, had her head spinning in odd ways. "That's well, I mean, not that- Do you? Value it? My company? I value yours. I think I took that for granted before our fight, which is a thing I do and- sorry."

Kristoff nodded, radiating sincerity. "I do, Anna." He held out his gloved hand across the crate, mashing the empty chocolate foil, and Anna took it and held it. "We're all the way out here in fourteen million square kilometres of ice and frozen rock, and only a few thousand complete madmen-"

"And mad _women_!"

Kristoff laughed. "-To share it with. It's good we have each other, don't you think?"

Anna squeezed his hand. "Yeah."

. . . **  
**

* * *

. . .

"I have good news."

"Oh! Hi…" Anna looked up from her breakfast to see Kristoff awkwardly hovering. Checking the hood of her onesie to make sure it hid her bed hair, she wondered for a second why he was looking so uncomfortable if he had good news… before she realised he was just waiting for an invitation. "Sit, sit, come on Kristoff! Tell me."

Kristoff joined her at the table, grasping a mug of that now familiar thick black coffee. She wondered if he drank it instead of sleeping- he was certainly up at all hours.

"The repairs to the satellite system are almost complete."

Anna's face lit up. "That's amazing! How long…"

"They'll be able to reintegrate with the satellite and start relaying data back to Europe tomorrow morning."

"And Internet? Phones?"

Kristoff scratched his beard. "That will take another day or two. Oaken wants to make sure we have everything straightened out before we bring back non-emergency comms, so no Wi-Fi."

Anna's heart sank.

"But…" Kristoff smiled. "Oaken's office has a direct broadband connection, which will be back straight away, and I told him you had a family emergency and, well, he's really a good boss."

"Wait, what did you tell him?" Anna's eyes widened.

"Oh, no details, only that you needed to contact your sister urgently. He may or may not think that she's dying." Kristoff shrugged. "The advantage of not asking for anything for five years is, when you do, people take it very seriously. Just talk to Oaken and arrange when it would be best to use his office tomorrow-"

Kristoff wasn't that surprised when Anna leaped up and threw her arms around his neck in thanks. She was a pretty excitable person. The kiss she pressed into his cheek before she rushed out of the canteen, on the other hand…

He sat still where he was for a moment, just processing. The other driver, Lars, took a seat beside him.

"So, you and Happy Feet, right?"

"Lars, no!" Kristoff hesitated, willing himself not to let his blush rise above the beard line. "I don't know. Maybe."

Lars snorted with laughter. "Kristoff, you hopeless young idiot. It'll be Christmas eve on Monday. Invite her to the party. A little festive cheer, a little lutefisk, a _lot_ of Oaken's akevitt…"

He waggled his eyebrows suggestively, undeterred by Kristoff's stony silence. "She is the first new person I have seen you happily interact with since… I don't even know. You're at the damn South Pole, do you think you're holding out for someone better?"

"No! Anna's great, really great, she…" Kristoff caught himself. "Oh, I see you."

"Because if there were someone better, sorry, but she wouldn't date you. You're reaching as it is."

Kristoff got up, zipping his coat. "I'm leaving now."

As he walked to the door Lars called after him. "Go, follow the beautiful penguin girl… Confess your true feelings…"

"See you around, Lars."

. . . **  
**

* * *

. . . **  
**

" _But he gave you chocolates?"_

" _ **Chocolate, Elsa. Chocolate. As in a candy bar. We had an argument…"**_

" _And he didn't have flowers?"_

" _ **Hilarious. Kristoff's just a guy I know."**_

" _Who went out of his way to help get us back in contact. And gave you chocolate, and you spend all day with him. I'm just looking at the facts- he's basically your snow husband."_

" _ **Stooop… A couple of dates and suddenly you're the love expert."**_

" _'Love' expert? Ha! A confession."_

" _ **I could sign off right now…"**_

" _Wait, Anna. Listen, listen, I'm being serious. You should see the way your eyes soften when you just say his name. Anna, this is me, of all people, telling you to take a chance… Why not just catch him under the mistletoe, see what happens?"_

" _ **Elsa, they don't do that in Norway. I think. We don't have mistletoe, anyway. Even if…"**_

. . .

Anna stared at the akevitt in the bottom of her glass, reflecting on her most recent Skype with Elsa. After the initial awkwardness of clearing up misunderstandings- it had turned out Elsa had sent about twenty panic texts and Anna had solemnly sworn to delete all of them unopened once they arrived- their conversation had turned with surprising ease to the warmer, more familial awkwardness of being interrogated about her love life. Not that she actually had a-

The door to the TV room opened, and Kristoff joined her in the hall, rosy cheeked with Christmas spirit and also probably from the rich, dark Christmas ale half-filling his cup. It was not to her taste, but by the rate it was disappearing it clearly suited some of their colleagues. "Not enjoying the film?"

" _Three Wishes for Cinderella?_ They show it every year." Kristoff shrugged.

"Give me _It's a Wonderful Life_ any day." Anna sipped her drink. "Shall we go out and say hello to the doggie?"

Kristoff tried to frown, but it wasn't working. "It's a goat. A Yule Goat. They're meant to be made out of straw, but Gerda and Lars only had bits of crate to hammer together, which is why it's so…"

Anna grinned. "So… what?"

"So like a robot dog." Kristoff sighed in surrender. "Sure, let's take a walk."

. . .

A few minutes later, wrapped up warmly, they stood at the centre of the base trying hard to admire what Kristoff's colleagues had constructed. They would not be winning any art prizes.

"So, how's it a goat?"

Kristoff pointed up at some of the messier parts of the beast. "The bent-over parts are meant to be horns."

"Really? Not ears?"

"Be nice. It would probably look more impressive at night."

Anna rolled her eyes, giggling. "Sure, at night. Let's just wait a few months."

Kristoff crossed his arms and pretended to sulk. "Yeah, yeah. Laugh at our ancient traditions. What do you do for Christmas?"

Anna grinned, stepping closer to him. "Give each other gifts…"

"Yeah, we already did that, and I'm out of chocolate."

She looked up at his face, all bemused patience, eyes dancing. "Eat turkey…"

"Good luck with that. I'm not driving you to the nearest supermarket."

"Where is that?"

"Cape Town. I hope you can swim."

"Okay, okay," Anna laughed, her gloved fingers trailing down the front of Kristoff's jacket. His brown eyes were as dark and heady as the ale he drank. "Well, there is mistletoe. You know how that works?"

"We have Hollywood. But if an American really wants to kiss someone why not just-"

"Yeah, why not?"

The kiss was brief- almost a collision- as Anna grabbed Kristoff's head in both hands and pulled him down, springing up on her toes to meet him halfway. Then she let go and staggered back a few feet.

Yep, she'd actually done that.

Kristoff was bright pink. "Anna…"

"You can't blame me!" Anna yelped. "I'm drunk and I have terrible impulse control!"

Kristoff burst out laughing, which Anna decided could either be good or really, really bad.

"Kristoff?"

That was when he kissed her back. Slow and loving and tender, and the alcohol in her veins could not compete with how that touch warmed her.

 _What was that bleeping?_

Pulling away slightly, Kristoff pulled his phone out of his back pocket. His smile broadened.

"Midnight."

Anna looked at the bright sunlight gleaming off the ear-horns of the Yule plank-monster. The sun was low over the mountains in the distance, setting the ice flats aglow… "Amazing."

"Merry Christmas, Anna."

. . . **  
**

* * *

. . . **  
**

 _I cannot not give Elsa a girlfriend. Just one of those headcanon things._

 _This is as much as I wrote for the Tumblr prompt. I may write a follow-up- we'll see._

 _In any case, thanks for reading!_

. . .


End file.
